


Syncopation

by limejuice



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Community: come_at_once, First Time, M/M, Uncertain Feelings, communication? what's that?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 12:19:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14852630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/limejuice/pseuds/limejuice
Summary: This was always going to happen, and nobody knows what it means.





	Syncopation

John had been waiting for this. Sherlock shuddered underneath him, and not only because they’d left the windows open and couldn't be arsed to close them when the cold front came through. The windows banged in their frames with every strong gust, and it was blowing hard this night. For brief stretches they’d kept time with it, but neither they nor the weather followed a single rhythm for long.

The wind whistled and rattled, and video flickered on the laptops abandoned on the table, audio barely audible. They were wedged into Sherlock’s chair, surrounded by boxes of case files they’d been sorting to pack away. Sherlock sat on the chair with John kneeling over his lap so that they were of a height. Sherlock had suggested they move to his bed, might even have offered going all the way upstairs, if John hadn’t pressed his closed mouth against Sherlock’s lips mid-sentence. 

“Here,” John said, and stopped pushing Sherlock’s dressing gown off to press it tight against Sherlock’s biceps. Sherlock froze his arms mid reach, elbows trapped against his torso and his hands outstretched toward John’s waist. Sherlock’s eyes flicked back and forth into John’s for five heartbeats (John) and one breath (Sherlock), and then his chin dropped in a stiff nod. John resumed, shoving the robe off behind him and starting on his shirt buttons. Sherlock’s fingers traced over John’s back, inching lower to untuck his shirt tails and reach skin. John slowed his own hands to give Sherlock more time.

“Here,” John said, because he didn’t know what this was or what it would do to them, and if it happened in the room where they worked then the rest of 221B would still be home. Maybe Sherlock would deduce that, or maybe he wouldn’t care, but John wasn’t about to explain. Not now, and possibly not ever. He shuddered then as Sherlock pulled his vest up over his head and the cool air chilled the sweat on the small of John’s back. Or possibly because the edge of Sherlock’s stubble had just ghosted lightly over the tip of John’s nipple. 

Sherlock tilted his face first to press a kiss into John’s breastbone and then slid over to brush his rough cheek over John’s nipple again, alternating light and firmer passes with licks and sucks. John didn’t want to explain and slid his hands through Sherlock’s hair to cup his head to his chest and surged hard against him when he added teeth. Sherlock hummed at John’s response and pushed his head back against John’s hands just enough to shift his mouth over and begin again on the other side, bracing John’s back with one forearm and pressing his other hand to John’s chest, squeezing and kneading and flicking the first side in counterpoint to his mouth on the other. Eventually John remembered he had two hands too and slid one between them to caress Sherlock’s chest, fingers seeking and scratching until they caught a nipple. John’s thumb rubbed it back and forth, alternating the nail’s edge and the pad, and then pressing the heel of his hand to massage up into the muscle and scraping his nails back down.

All at once Sherlock leaned up with a groan and a wince, and rested his forehead against John’s, hands on his shoulders. He kept his gaze down, watching his thumbs trace John’s collar bones. 

“John, you haven’t said what you—”

“Or you,” John interrupted, reaching down between them. Sherlock’s breath caught as John’s hand hovered over his groin. “I thought we were deducing.” Talking would not clarify anything. He tilted his face to drag his lips lightly over Sherlock’s and settled into a kiss. Sherlock’s mouth opened to John’s tongue tracing the inner edge and kissed back hard when John’s fingers finally made contact with his cock. Sherlock’s hands spasmed on John’s shoulders and began moving, one stroking down John’s front, the other his back. John pulled gently up Sherlock’s length with a soft fist and then opened his hand to trace back down with separated fingertips. Sherlock’s breath grew ragged, and he brought both of his hands back to massage John’s chest, disrupting John’s breathing the same way. He arched into Sherlock’s hands, breaking the kiss as he lifted his head back, and Sherlock took the opportunity to nuzzle John’s neck and jaw. After a moment John pulled him into a close hug, full torso contact, their chests and cocks pressed between them. Their hearts pounded in a syncopated beat that did not slow as they embraced.

John shifted his hips, edging closer and higher until he could align his whole penis against Sherlock’s. Sherlock’s mouth dropped open with a barely voiced “Oh!” when John started to move, sliding up and down Sherlock in slow, shaky presses. It only took a single raised eyebrow from John for Sherlock to move his hands to his arse to add leverage. John stretched one hand into the back of the seat cushion behind Sherlock and pulled out a packet of lube. He sat up and balanced against Sherlock’s hands as he tore it open and squeezed the contents into his palm. Out of the corner of his eye he observed at least half a dozen expressions flicker over Sherlock’s face as he processed what had just happened. He didn’t seem to be about to blurt out any commentary but just in case John simultaneously started kissing him again while covering first Sherlock’s penis with lube and then stroking himself to distribute the rest. They resumed the glide and slide motion, moving more quickly now with the ease of extra slick. Sherlock remained silent, aside from the occasional gasp.

“Smart man,” he murmured against Sherlock’s lips. Sherlock’s eyes were closed, a faint crease of concentration shivering between his brows. He took a breath as if to refute him but just shook his head and and returned to request control of the kiss with a gentle nip of John’s bottom lip. Part of him wanted to hesitate and hold back, but the sudden bang of a window crashing shut startled them both, and he finally let himself let go against Sherlock after their shared whoosh of half-laugh and shocked breath. Closing his eyes at last, John gave in to the feel of skin against skin, the tremors in their hands and limbs. John rolled his hips, dragging his cock up and down the underside of Sherlock’s and then lined them up to slide against each other. With one hand, he clasped the back of the chair for more control and with the other he held their cocks together. Sherlock reciprocated, his larger hand holding them below John’s, his breath loud in John’s ear after he’d broken the kiss to breathe hard against John’s neck as they continued to move in unison. John’s orgasm flared abruptly and ebbed slowly, the final ripples coinciding with Sherlock’s last hard thrust as he came across John’s belly. John stayed where he was, and they pulled each other into a tight embrace once again as their breathing steadied. 

He didn’t want to open his eyes. It would all be fine.

“Oh John,” Sherlock said so softly John wasn’t sure he heard it.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Come At Once, a 24-hr porn challenge. No beta or britpick.
> 
> As a challenge for myself, I tried to write a piece that could work with _Sherlock_ 's John and Sherlock or with _Elementary_ 's Watson and Sherlock. If you're interested, the parallel work can be found [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14852840).


End file.
